


Of Faux Fairy Tales

by HomicidalHarley



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Crying Victor, Family Issues, Homophobia, Hurt Victor, M/M, Victor deserves happiness, yuuri makes everything better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomicidalHarley/pseuds/HomicidalHarley
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov never believed in fairy tales, nor had he ever been fond of them as a child. They were all predictable...cliché, and made no sense whatsoever.In other words:Viktor remembers how his sexuality made things difficult regarding his family and childhood.





	Of Faux Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, before people say it, yes, I know homophobia does not exist in the YOI universe (And how wonderful is that?) but this was a venting fic for me, and Viktor is a very mysterious and closed-off person, despite how he acts, so I wrote a little fic to give him an AU backstory that would make sense if YOI's universe was anything like the real world.

Viktor had never believed in fairy tales, nor had he ever been particularly fond of them as a child. They were so predictable, cliché. They also made no sense whatsoever.

There were never any interesting twists to tug him onto the edge of his seat when his babushka droned on about fables and fairy tales with overused plots, uninteresting characters and unlikely villains.

Most of the make-belief stories starred a female victim and a male protagonist, the female being a passive, beautiful princess captured by some evil antagonist, and the male being a brave prince or knight tasked with the inconvenient job of risking his life for a woman he's never met, only for them to magically fall in love at first sight.

It was a boring, indefinite cycle that every well-known fairy tale followed, and it never appealed to Viktor the way it did to little girls playing with tiaras and boys playing with fake swords.

It never made him dream about saving his own princess or being saved by a prince, and instead raised a lot of questions.

Why was it always the prince saving the princess, and not the other way around? Why was it never a princess saving a princess? Or a prince saving a prince? Why did it always have to be members of opposite sex riding off into the sunset on a majestic white horse?

Of course, Viktor hadn't understood at the time, so he didn't think twice before asking his grandmother those questions. She had passed away a long time ago, but he still remembered her words like they'd just been spoken yesterday.

_Cerulean jewels stared at the baby yellow ceiling, dilated and unseeing as the dimmed light directly above, flickered very faintly every minute or so._

_A soft scratching noise reached his ears as his babushka picked some sticky paper off the backside of the old folklore book in her hands, wrinkly fingertips roughly gliding over the hardcover in an effort to remove the stubborn pieces._

_The elderly woman had just finished reading him another clichéd story before bed, as she always did whenever she came over. Viktor was almost 11-years old, and had long since outgrown the unoriginal myths, but the old woman seemed to thoroughly enjoy retelling her childhood lore to her grandson, and he just didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't enjoy it as much as she did._

_The light scratching halted after another minute or so, and the young skater shifted to turn onto his side, the thick blanket twisted around his legs and covering his body up to his midsection. He tugged the sleeves of his nightshirt over his wrists and breathed into his cupped hands to warm them, the cold air sending a slight shiver down his spine._

_His babushka noticed the light tremble to his frame, and set the thin book down on the nightstand before reaching over to feebly tug the furry blanket up to his shoulders, clicking her tongue disapprovingly as she did so,"Vitya, don't push the duvet off. You will get sick."_

_Viktor gently gripped the edge of the warm comforter, slender fingers digging into the soft material as he curled into himself beneath it,"I'm sorry, babouchka."_

_His eyes drooped slightly as the woman grabbed her cane from its propped-up position against the side of his twin-sized bed, using it to weakly push herself up onto her feet. He noticed her feeble arm shaking as she pushed down on the wooden stick to lift herself up, and shifted to sit upright on the bed, brows furrowed in concern,"Do you need help?"_

_"No, Vitya." She successfully steadied herself on her feet, her navy slippers dragging across the wooden floor as she shifted to rest a withered palm on the young boy's head, rugose fingers gently weaving in between the roots of his waist-length, silver locks._

_A light-hearted smile tugged at the corners of Viktor's lips, and he moved to gently hook his arms around his babushka's middle, embracing the widow in a tender hug,"Dobroy Nochi."_

_His grandmother bid him back goodnight before removing her hand from his hair, reaching to retrieve the book from the nightstand as he laid back down, platinum locks sprawled out across the pure white pillow._

_As she turned to leave with her cane and book in hand, Viktor spoke again,"Babouchka."_

_"Yes, Vitya?" She shifted on her heels to peer back at her grandson, watching as he rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling again,"Why didn't the princess fight back when the bad man grabbed her?"_

_"If the princess fought back and saved herself, what would be the prince's role in the story?"_

_"Can't they fall in love through different means? Why do they have to end up together at all when they've never met before?"_

_"Because she is the princess and he is the prince."_

_"But what about chemistry? They instantly fall in love after he saves her, but they don't even know each other yet. What if they aren't a match? Does she just stay with him because he saved her, and does he just marry her because he has to? That doesn't sound like a happy ever after."_

_"You think too much, Vitya."_

_"What about the princess's brother?"  He forced his gaze away from the ceiling to glance at the elderly woman. She'd retaken her seat next to his bed, her aging legs not being able to hold her body up for long,"What about him?"_

_"What about him and the prince?"_

_"I don't understand."_

_"They got along well, so...why can't they get married instead?"_

_A moment of silence passed, and Viktor looked at his babushka, brows furrowing in confusion when he saw the shocked expression on her face,"Baba?"_

_"Vitya." Her voice was cross as she pushed herself up with her cane again, slapping at the boy's outstretched hand when he reached to try and help her up. He visibly winced, and snatched his hand back, face contorted in a mix between confused and surprised._

_The widow stomped her cane against the wooden floor, making a resounding thud and forcing another flinch from the russian skater as he instinctively moved backwards on the bed, tugging the fluffy blanket along with him before she spoke again,"That jest was not amusing."_

_"I...I wasn't joking, babouchka." The young boy looked beyond confused, not being used to his grandmother being cross with him. He was a well-behaved child, so she never had a reason to scold him over anything, which made most of their exchanges pleasant and full of bonding memories between grandchild and grandparent, but left him in discomfort during these situations,"Did I say something wrong...?"_

_"Vitya, you don't believe that two men can get married, do you?"_

_"But why not? I don't understand why-"_

_"It is unacceptable! Impermissible!"_

_A light scuffling sound could be heard from the next room, and Viktor thought it likely to be his father waking up because of the the loud noise. His grandmother seemed to hear it too, and immediately lowered her voice._

_"Vitya, people of the same gender cannot be intimately involved. It is wrong."_

_"But I..." Viktor bit his lip anxiously, blue eyes shifting down to the teal blanket he was clutching in his hands, seeming to process what she was saying._

_She took a step forward and tapped the cane on the floor again, making the boy snap his head up as she leaned closer to lock gazes with him, expression that of disapproval,"You do not like girls?"_

_"...n-no, babouchka. I like boys!" He replied, grip on the comforter loosening only a bit as she stood back up straight._

_Another moment of silence passed where she practically just stared him down, and he suddenly felt tears prickling at his eyelids. He reached up to wipe at them, a light sniff following soon after,"Is...is there something wrong with me?" He asked softly, voice cracking slightly as he spoke._

_The widow did not respond for a short moment, merely watching as he rubbed at his teary eyes before sighing and deciding to move forward, wrinkled hand placing itself on his head again,"You will keep this to yourself, Vitya. If you want to keep living under this roof, you will not tell your father about this, nor your mother until this phase of yours is over. You do not like boys. You are too young to know what you want."_

_He quietly nodded, too afraid to protest. She was probably right anyway._

His babushka passed away a year later, and he never did grow out of his phase. Still, he followed her advice, because despite her not agreeing with his sexuality, she still cared. She made that evident after that night. She made her visits to their home much more frequent, and used their time together to walk him around St. Petersburg, pointing out every pretty girl and asking him if he found them attractive.

He always responded by saying they're beautiful, which was true, but he did not feel attracted to them, and she seemingly thought those two words meant the same thing, so after a few months, she let it go and their interactions went back to being sweet and memorable. 

It was when he turned 16, that he decided to come out to his parents, tired of having to live with such a big secret. It was then that he found out why his babushka had warned him not to tell his father, and hell did he regret ever even opening his mouth about his sexuality.

_"Mamochka, Batya."_

_Slender, pale fingers slowly twirled around each other in a nervous motion as his father took a seat opposite of him, his mother standing at the counter behind them whilst wiping a glass clean with a damp cloth,"What is it, Vitya?"_

_"I...have something to tell you."_

_He adjusted his position on the brown, leather couch, resting his folded hands on his kneecaps as his father leaned back on his wooden chair, glass of alcohol being lifted his lips. The stench of the alcoholic drink reached Viktor's nostrils as the man brought the glass to his lips to take a big gulp, and he suddenly felt his anxiety multiply by ten. Ivann Nikiforov was known in the neighbourhood for his alcohol and his temper when he was under its influence._

_Viktor often got yelled at for stupid things when his father was tipsy, but he'd never been physically assaulted, so he didn't think this would be a complete trainwreck, seeing as the man had just started with his first glass._

_A moment of silence had passed, and only now did he realize they were waiting for him to continue. Ivann's thick index finger tapped against the transparent glass impatiently as he stared at his boy,"Out with it, Vitya."_

_The young skater bit his lip anxiously, and unfolded his hands to rest them beside himself on the couch, nails digging into the hard leather,"You remember Daniil from the skating rink?"_

_His mother spoke from her place behind Ivann, now using the damp cloth to clean off a dusty plate she had removed from an aging box,"You mean that boy you are always walking around with? Yes, are you two still friends?"_

_"Not...exactly."_

_A soft clink was heard as his father's glass touched the armrest of the chair,"Did you get in a fight?"_

_"No, Batya. Daniil and I are..." He hesitated, teal eyes shifting down to the floor. His voice dropped in volume, and the next part was almost whispered,"We're together..."_

_The two adults didn't give much of a response, and Viktor looked up to see his Batya's irritated expression. The man took another sip of his drink as he leaned back in the chair again,"Speak up, Vitya!"_

_The platinum skater visibly flinched and loosened his grip on the sofa before lifting his head, clearing his throat before speaking again,"Daniil and I are together. I love him."_

_An eternity of silence followed afterwards, and Viktor stiffened on the couch when his mother dropped the glass she was holding, the sound of it shattering on the tiled floor finally seeming to bring his father out of his stunned daze._

_The burly man stood up from the chair with a start and chucked the half-empty glass at Viktor's feet. The boy pulled his legs up onto the couch as it shattered against the floor, alcohol spilling and flowing in between the tiles,"Get out of my house!"_

_The silver-haired skater blinked and glanced up at his father's angry face, a sense of regret and dread bubbling up in his chest,"But Batya-"_

_"It's his skates and hair, Annushka! I told you he was becoming too feminine! Give me my shotgun!" Ivann yelled at his wife. The woman gasped in shock and shook her head, moving to grab her husband by his forearm,"Ivann! He's just a child!"_

_Viktor felt tears welling up behind his lids, an unwanted sob wracking his frame as the man brushed Annushka off, shoving past her to get to the closet situated in the kitchen. He ripped it open with such force he was sure it would fall off its hinges._

_He glanced up when his mother came over in haste, her soft hands quickly grabbing hold of her son's. She knelt down in front of him, expression contorted into that of despair,"Run, Vitya. Run, and don't come back."_

_She pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers, gripping his hands tightly before letting go, then stepped back and pointed towards the front door,"Go! Now!"_

_The 16-year old quickly scrambled off the couch, hitting the floor with a thud after having slipped due to his vision being blurred by tears. He pushed himself up from the floor and ran to the door as fast as he could, grabbing the keys along the way and sticking them in the keyhole. He fiddled with it in haste, heart rate speeding up rapidly when he heard a gun clicking behind him._

_He finally managed to unlock the door, and it swung open, letting him fall onto his knees in the freezing snow outside._

_He hissed in pain when the cold ice came in contact with his bare feet and hands, the sensation burning. He heard a gunshot sounding from behind him, and realized his father was shooting warning shots into the roof._

_More tears spilled from his eyes as he got back onto his feet and took off into the street, running as fast as he could._

_He only dared to look back once and saw his mother standing in the open doorway with one of his skates in her hands, Ivann standing behind her with his shotgun ready in his calloused hands._

_He kept running for about ten minutes before falling to his knees in the snowy driveway of a two-story house, slender frame quivering due to his crying and the cold air. He really wished he'd grabbed his coat along the way, seeing as it was so cold, his tears were turning to ice as they rolled down his cheeks._

_He reached up to wipe at his eyes, brushing the ice off as he fished his cellphone out of his pocket._

_He swiped the screen to unlock it, finger shaking as he pressed on the contacts icon. He swiped down the list of people before coming to a halt on his coach's name, Yakov._

_He pressed the call button, and held the phone up to his ear, teeth chattering as a strong gust of wind blew past him. The number dialed for about a minute before a grouchy voice answered on the other side,"Vitya, it's late. What do you want?"_

_"Y-Yakov?" His voice came out scratchy and soft, certain that the man would have trouble hearing him speak on the other side with the wind blowing so hard._

_Still, his coach somehow managed to pick up on Viktor's miserable tone._

_"Vitya? What's wrong? Why can I hear the wind blowing? What are you doing outside in this weather?!" Yakov sounded absolutely livid, and a small smile graced Viktor's blue lips for a second,"Y...Yakov, can you come pick me up? Please?"_

A soft creak sounded as Makkachin hopped onto the bed, and Viktor was pulled from his thoughts as the dog laid down on top of his legs. He shifted into a more comfortable position and turned over on his side, tugging the blanket up to his chest as he came face to face with his fiancé. 

Yuuri's hand was resting between their heads as he slept. The russian skater took the chance to gently grasp his hand, index finger rubbing over the golden ring around his lover's fourth digit, his expression thoughtful.

The light touch seemed to disturb the japanese skater's slumber, and he cracked an eye open to watch Viktor play with his fingers,"You're still awake...?"

The russian blinked and locked gazes with Yuuri, his lips quirking up into a soft smile as he let go of his hand,"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Are you okay?" Yuuri asked, sitting upright on the bed before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand. He then slipped them onto the bridge of his nose and turned his head to look at the silver-haired man lying next to him, reaching over to brush the platinum bangs from his face. 

Viktor nodded lightly, not letting the smile leave his face,"I've never been better." He stated as he lifted a hand to take hold of his lover's wrist.

**_Thank you...Yuuri._ **

 


End file.
